


Devotion

by 200and21bees



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Teenagers, Ballet Dancer Sherlock, Domestic Fluff, Grey-A Sherlock, John's a good boyfriend, Light Angst, M/M, Med Student John, Romance, Sherlock's got performing anxiety, Slow To Update, Teen John, Teen Sherlock, occasional hand jobs, very light
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-12
Updated: 2018-02-16
Packaged: 2018-08-30 10:44:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,367
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8530006
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/200and21bees/pseuds/200and21bees
Summary: Sherlock is getting nowhere with his dancing and John decides to help out a bit, in more ways than at first thought.Just another cliche teenage ballet!lock fic ;)





	1. Chapter 1

 

 

They were sitting on the sofa, Sherlock’s lithe feet resting on John’s lap. The brunet had arrived home just half an hour ago, having spent the last two hours practicing at the university’s gymnasium which had been the only place where he could practice for free that day. Sometimes he got a few minutes at some local dance studio when a student cancelled but that was rare, and Sherlock kept complaining how he could never get better due to the lack of proper practice.

  
John was absentmindedly rubbing and massaging his calves, still hitting all the right places because he had spent hours memorising the muscles and nerves one afternoon (purely for his medical studies; Sherlock’s legs correlated quite well with his textbook charts, though Sherlock had still enjoyed the act immensely). Sherlock was still tense after his routines though he said he couldn’t do much other than stretching and basic moves, since there were no mirrors in the gymnasium.

  
Continuing the massage, John considered his plan once more. He wasn’t still completely sure if interfering with Sherlock's dancing was a good idea, the brunet was always defensive about his hobby.

  
_He has a good reason though_ , John thought bitterly. Remembering how badly Sherlock’s interests had been received by the world, even his parents, so far was an endless source of angry, adrenaline-filled energy for the blond, and he opened his mouth before he chickened out again.

  
“Um, Sherlock?” John started. The brunet gave a noncommittal hum, apparently not entirely noticing John’s nerves. “Yeah, uh. I was thinking. About your dancing...”

  
Talking about Sherlock’s dancing was something that immediately put him on alert, John could feel his legs tense on his lap. When Sherlock didn’t comment, John continued: “I understand you, um, said you don’t have a teacher, right? I mean you haven’t, or...”

  
Sherlock raised his head to look at John, cautiously curious. Then he gave a tentative nod.

  
“Uh, right, so I was thinking. Maybe if you would like to, or want to – to get one?” John silently cursed his inability to be his normal, confident self about this. Instead he felt unnaturally nervous which was, well, unnerving. He kept his gaze downwards, stroking his hand idly across Sherlock’s legs.

  
Sherlock hummed again. “You know how expensive ballet lessons, especially good, private ones are, John, and you also know my parents refused to support my free-time activities after that incident with cocaine. Not that they had been very fond of the idea of me 'in a tutu' to begin with.” John could tell Sherlock was unhappy about the situation, every time he managed to mention it, and it made the blond slightly more sure of his decision.

  
“Yeah, I know. So, I did a few, uh, calls around, and well, there’s this… Mrs. Hudson if I remember correctly.”

  
Sherlock places his feet on the floor and sat up properly, and John had to raise his hands to rub at his neck, feeling very awkward. “And, uh, we talked and… Well, it’s only once a week, but it was something like 90 minutes, or... But it wasn’t a bad price and I figured I could -”

  
“John,” Sherlock interrupted his blabbering, “are you saying you’d pay ballet lessons _for me_?” He sounded so weirded out by the idea that John once again doubted himself.  
“Of course you don’t have to, I just thought… You mentioned you weren’t progressing a few weeks ago, and I – well, I thought it could, um, help, maybe,” he mumbled, feeling hot and red already.

  
Sherlock stared at him, still unbelieving.  
“Why,” he said with a small voice, “why would you do that?”

  
John couldn’t decide whether to look at Sherlock’s face or his own lap. “It’s just, I mean I’ve seen you dance, obviously, and you’re always happy after you’ve practiced… It’s something you want, or I thought… It’s fine if you rather not, it’s all f-”

  
Sherlock interrupted him again, but this time it was with a kiss as the dancer climbed onto John’s lap and hugged his middle tightly. Then he buried his head in John’s neck and gave a laugh.

  
“Of course I’d want that, I’d like nothing better. Thank you John, I’m really...” After squeezing the blond’s middle for the last time, he pulled back and swept his eyes over John’s face. “You’re really full of surprises, aren’t you?”

  
John gave him a huge smile and kissed the dancer again. They laid like that for a while, Sherlock laying his head on John’s shoulder and the blond just holding him. Then Sherlock had a thought. “How are you going to pay that teacher?”

  
“Mrs. Hudson agreed to give us a discount, for now at least, she’d really like to see who you are… But I did, um, I asked Molly if I could get more hours at the café, and since Greg’s been busy lately she said it would work out well, I can work some of his shifts. And I’m almost finished with my studies, so I’ll get proper shifts at the clinic too soon.”

  
Sherlock had to pull back again to stare at John some more. “Isn’t that – I mean you’re in _medical school_ now, are you sure?”

  
John had to smirk at Sherlock’s concern. “I’ll be fine, plus I’ll get some savings too so it’s not all for just you.” The brunet shook his head while still watching John. “You keep amazing me, John, you really do. Just let me know if you get tired, please,” he added with firmness that John didn’t dare to dismiss.

  
“I will, promise. It’ll be worth it, you are already brilliant. Make sure she knows how you do your best.”

  
Sherlock took his while to enjoy the lovely crooked smile John gave him and then relaxed against John once again, stroking his back and hair, feeling immensely happy.

  
“I will.”

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Nutcracker](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bVpbUS8k7t0) goes with any ballet thing, right?

 

 

Sherlock spent the next few days working himself to a frenzy over the fact that someone else was going to see him dance. John was one thing, he would be impressed by mere pliés – not that he knew what those were, or anything else about ballet.

 

But someone who had actually studied and taught ballet and knew about arts… He could ruin this in so many ways. So, he spent all his free time dancing and stretching as much as he could. Even before going to sleep he would practice his balance, watching his face in the bathroom mirror.

 

John of course noticed how worked up Sherlock was, and somehow he felt almost guilty about it. He had had to practically demand Sherlock to sleep at least six hours every night instead of trying to practice in the dark of night. He definitely didn’t mind watching Sherlock stretch in the living room instead of doing his schoolwork, not with his leggings on, but he wasn’t going to give up sleeping because of that and neither was Sherlock as far as John was concerned. Maybe he was already more like a doctor than he had thought.

 

The brunet had also spent more time practicing at various spots, somehow getting more time at the university. But after one Thursday, Sherlock came home with a ban to the gymnasium and a fairly impressive bruise about to form on his cheekbone.

 

“I was there just a few minutes longer than I should have, nobody would have noticed a thing if I had been more careful. But apparently telling the caretaker his wife is cheating on him wasn’t the smartest thing to do. Honestly, I was trying to distract him to get away and it just slipped out.”

 

John just tutted at him and found a cold pack for his cheek.

 

 

 ---

 

 

It was still a week before Sherlock managed to get a date with Mrs. Hudson that didn’t collide with an important lecture or an experiment.

 

Technically, John got him the date. Sherlock hadn’t actually contacted the dance studio owner himself yet, letting John take care of the pleasantries for him (well, he really was afraid he’d say something Not Good and then his chance would be gone).

 

“It’s tomorrow, she’ll want to see you dance so she knows where to start,” John announced when he entered the living room after calling Mrs. Hudson. Sherlock nodded once, curtly, frowning a little.

 

“You don’t have to go if you don’t want to, really.”

 

Sherlock gave a somehow desperate hum. “I know, you’ve said. I want to, I do, it’s just -” He took a breath and reached for John, looking nervous. “Would you walk me there?”

 

John took his hand and let himself get pulled to the sofa. “Of course, love.” _Anything for_ you.

 

Sherlock wrapped his hands around John and laid his head on the blond’s shoulder. John mirrored the actions and then wiggled a bit to get comfortable, which provoked a few giggles from Sherlock, and then they laid like that for hours.

 

 

\---

 

 

Sherlock wasn’t very keen to show affection outside their small student flat but somehow he couldn’t stop playing with John’s fingers, the two of them holding hands the whole way to the studio. Even though John was usually the one to initiate casual touches and cuddles and things like that, he definitely didn’t mind.

 

When they reached the building, which contained one gym and another studio, Sherlock couldn’t understand why he didn’t want to let go of John. The blond probably had studying to do, definitely something more worth his time than watch Sherlock stumble nervously. And shouldn’t extra audience make him even more anxious?

 

“Sherlock?” John was probably already antsy to get home. Damn, this was likely embarrassing, Sherlock needing to be escorted like a little child. Sucking in a breath, Sherlock yanked his now minutely trembling hand from John’s, trying to fight the irrational impulse to hug the short man.

 

He was steeling himself and about to turn away and climb the steps to the third damn floor, when John laid his hand on Sherlock’s arm. “Would you like me to… I could -”

 

“Yes, please. Yes.”

 

 

\---

 

 

Later, John would ask Sherlock how the brunet felt about his presence, why it didn’t make him more nervous. That was indeed weird, but at the same time it was nice to know that he was indeed able to share his dancing with John, he didn’t want to hide anything from the blond. He had gone for so long having to hide it from other people, only Mycroft knew and he didn’t care. And maybe John even understood his explanation since the blond gave him the tightest, happiest hug Sherlock had ever received.

 

The week before his first actual lesson, Sherlock spent almost every day practicing after school (and probably during school too, John knew he didn’t always attend his lectures anyway) wherever he could and stretching when at home.

 

Although he wasn’t as anxious as he had been before his “audition” (as he had called it), John tried to calm him and to get him to slow down but Sherlock was determined to be the best he could. And well, watching Sherlock stretch wasn’t exactly unpleasant for John either.

 

Sherlock didn’t even need to ask John to come with him, he pulled his coat on as if it was the plan all along, and maybe it had been. They held hands the whole way again, and Sherlock didn’t even think about letting go.

 

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Raised the rating for this, just in case...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This might not even be the shortest chapter I've ever written.

 

 

John woke up to a pain-filled groan that didn’t come from him. He rolled over to where Sherlock flopped back with another discontented sound. “What’s wrong?”

 

Sherlock threw a dramatic arm over his face with a grimace. “Apparently I have never really danced ballet. I’m sore _everywhere_ , John. Everywhere! I’m never getting up.”

 

John laughed and without further thinking got up to carefully straddle Sherlock’s waist. He marveled again how comfortable it was for him to be with Sherlock, how easily intimacy just happened between them. He had never gotten anywhere with other guys before, too awkward to even try really. There hadn’t been any barriers with Sherlock, despite the fact that Sherlock lacked sexual drive most of the time. He did love to cuddle though, and that worked better than fine with John.

 

"So ballet is hard after all? Lucky you have a competent med student here and nowhere to go,” he said with a smirk. True enough, it was Saturday and they would have the whole day for themselves. With a gentle prompt from John, Sherlock lowered his arm and John started to massage his shoulders lightly.

 

“Where’s the worst pain?” Sherlock closed his eyes at the attention to his muscles and considered the question. John added pressure to his movements and Sherlock opened his eyes again, smiling. When he did that though, a blush started to spread over his cheeks and he swallowed, smile almost faltering.

 

“I think I should lay on my stomach instead,” he mumbled, still sweeping his gaze over John, eyes somehow distant. John eyed him for a moment and then hopped off. “Yeah sure, are you okay?” he asked, feeling a weird tug of worry in his stomach. Was Sherlock hurting?

 

The dancer just nodded and started to roll over. “’M fine, just, watching you… like that. Too much input, could’ve gotten distracted ‘s all,” he mumbled, the blush painting his cheek now appearing on his neck.

 

When he glanced at John’s gleeful smirk, Sherlock only groaned and buried his head on his pillow. “Oh please, John, just get on with it!” he managed to groan. John giggled and straddled Sherlock’s body again, this time sitting just above his arse.

 

“Okay, okay,” he chuckled and got to work. “Just say if I’m too rough, I might get distracted too.”

 

The resulting moan made the blond giggle again.

 

John began with the brunet’s shoulders, at first gentle but after a while he started to add pressure and found that Sherlock’s whole upper back was filled with tender spots. Every now and then Sherlock let out a gasp as John found a new spot.

 

After Sherlock’s so-called audition had gone very well - in John’s opinion at least, and Mrs. Hudson had seemed very happy but Sherlock still seemed to think he hadn’t been perfect, they had agreed that Sherlock would start there (Mrs. Hudson had almost insisted, which made Sherlock blush fiercely) with weekly private lessons. Since the dancer had asked John to come with him already and John had then tagged along again and without prompting, he wasn’t actually surprised when Sherlock made sure his practice wouldn’t coincide with John’s rugby practice. "Just in case," he had said, feigning nonchalance, but John had given him a soft smile at the somehow sweet gesture.

 

“I will definitely come with you every week I can.” John’s voice sounded slightly out of breath due to the massage, and that was probably why Sherlock’s answering “yes” was more like a moan than his usual witty voice. John found a particularly good spot between Sherlock’s shoulder blades and managed to turn that single moan into a longer series of breathy sounds that were almost too much for the blond’s self-control.

 

After Sherlock started to finally relax under John’s hands, the blond started to work his way downwards, following Sherlock’s spine and putting pressure on the muscles on either side of the bones. Now Sherlock was lightly pushing back and John could tell he was enjoying himself.

 

He had to shift downwards and straddle Sherlock’s thighs as he worked on Sherlock’s lower back and eventually his buttocks. The movement enabled his crotch to make contact with backs of Sherlock’s thighs and it took all his willpower to resist the urge to thrust. Instead, he focused on Sherlock. The dancer had really been working too hard, even his small back was littered with tense spots. John lifted and shifted to get better leverage to work the biggest muscles while Sherlock just laid there, breathing heavier every minute.

 

The dancer had now buried his face to the pillow which mostly muffled his gasps, but after a while John realised he had gotten so aroused, even without meaning to, that he really had to do something about it. He gave Sherlock’s hips one last squeeze and leaned back to sit up straight. Immediately, Sherlock got on one elbow and peered at John.

 

“Should I turn around or-” the brunet stopped as he took in John’s no doubt beet-red face. “Oh.”

 

“Yeah, oh indeed. You do sound very nice when you’re getting a massage.” John climbed off Sherlock and slid up again to sit with his back on the headboard, his pyjamas embarrassingly revealing his current state.

 

“I didn’t mean to get this excited,” he mumbled, feeling almost awkward now that Sherlock was just watching him.

 

Sherlock laid his head on his arms, still watching John. “You are allowed, you know.” John just tilted his head.

 

“To get aroused. And I might even want to watch you get off,” he added with a smirk. John immediately felt how his blood shifted place. “You would? Isn’t that… I don’t know, selfish?”

 

Sherlock rolled to his back now with only the smallest wince. “You demanding for me to participate would be selfish. I don’t mind. Just get on with it, I need to use the loo soon and now I really want to watch.”

 

John let out a laugh and, before he would change his mind, lowered his pajamas and pants a little, just enough to make room and got to work. Admittedly, the idea of Sherlock watching him made his excitement climb even higher as he put a hand on himself.

 

After that, it didn’t take much time. Massaging Sherlock had already gotten him so close to the edge, and knowing the dancer was lying there, watching him, it all did him in eventually. While John was still panting from his climax, Sherlock got up and headed for the loo. He turned to look at John from the doorway with a cheeky smirk.

 

“You know, you still didn’t do my legs. I might need to stretch them first though.”

 

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "God, I shouldn’t get so horny from seeing you happy in your new kit."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this took me AGES, but I hope it's at least partly worth the wait.  
> I'll be updating my other fics for a while, but I'll get back to this asap!

 

 

Massages became a regular occurrence, even though Sherlock quickly got used to the new standards and rarely got so sore anymore. But secretly he did like to have John take care of him, so he just shrugged and nodded every time John offered to massage him. Of course John knew this, so he made sure they would have time every Saturday morning for that.

 

He also tried to come watch his lessons every week. It was lovely to see Sherlock get better every time, even though he had no idea how it happened since everything looked like the same sort of brilliant to him. John quickly learned that Mrs. Hudson wasn’t one to give compliments in class easily, but she did like to chat with John before and after Sherlock’s lessons, always praising Sherlock’s diligence. John smiled at Sherlock’s direction fondly, and always agreed with her.

 

At first the dancer had changed into his ballet attire at home, pulled on his trousers and shirt before leaving and then waiting until they got home to shower. But he seemed to get comfortable with the studio after a few weeks and started to change and shower there, claiming that it was nicer than walking home sweaty after all.

 

Right when Sherlock’s class ended, the showers were still empty for his use. But soon after they’d be full of other dancers getting ready for their class, a shared group class for advanced dancers. They were mostly the same age as John and Sherlock, John noticed as he was waiting for Sherlock on the corridor.

 

To his surprise, he spotted Molly on one Friday as he was waiting for Sherlock, waving at her. They chatted for a bit and Molly hoped Sherlock would start attending the group lessons soon, since she had been eager to meet John’s boyfriend for ages, ever since John started talking about him all the time.

 

Actually, not many were there for private lessons since Mrs. Hudson was running the place mostly on her own and she didn’t have the time to tutor each dancer privately. John wondered if Sherlock would soon join them in group classes, but he didn’t think it was his place to ask. So, he let Sherlock and Mrs. Hudson figure it out. Sherlock seemed to be advancing pretty quickly after all.

 

He seemed very happy with the studio, and John loved the big grin he always wore at home before the lesson. He seemed to love the professional-looking studio, and he even ended up buying a better pair of ballet slippers after Mrs. Hudson recommended them. John caught him trying them on in the bathroom, grinning widely down at his feet before doing some sort of ballet-posing. John left him at it, smiling to himself.

 

He knew Sherlock didn’t have that much extra money to spend on his ballet attire, so every new piece of clothing was considered closely. Plus, the new black slippers matched his old tights well, “making his legs look even longer” like Mrs. Hudson had said. John had agreed vigorously.

 

 

\---

 

 

“John?” Sherlock called his name tentatively, coming to the living room with a piece of clothing clutched against his chest. John frowned at him and lowered his textbook.

 

“Yes?”

 

“I…” Sherlock sniffed and then tossed the garment at him. “Is it okay? For, you know, dancing?”

 

John wanted to point out that he still knew absolutely nothing about ballet or the clothes needed in it, but he held his tongue and lifted what he now recognised as one of those one-piece garments which most of the other dancers wore, but he couldn’t recall the name of it. It was dark green and made of something light and silky, and John nodded as he ran his fingers over the material.

 

“Looks very professional to me,” he nodded, trying to sound smart, and smiled at Sherlock. “And the colour will fit you perfectly, it’ll look very nice on you.”

 

He ignored the urge to comment on the ‘hot as hell’ aspect of the tight piece of clothing, only letting his gaze wander over the garment appreciatively. Sherlock nodded and blushed, sitting down next to John and leaning into him.

 

“Why did you buy one of these now?” John prompted, folding the piece of clothing carefully and leaving it on the coffee table.

 

“Just wanted to try one, finally,” Sherlock shrugged and peered at John’s textbook and the messy notes taped to it.

 

“I also got a pair of new tights to go with that as well, since my old tights aren’t very compatible with leotards,” he said casually, now picking up the book and smiling a bit as John just stared at the garment. “Do you need help with this? I could quiz you.”

 

John pursed his lips, trying to ignore the image of Sherlock strolling around the flat on a new pair of tights and that leotard, and sighed. “Mmm, if you have time. Chemistry had never been my strong point.”

 

Quizzing turned into a tickling match which then turned into snogging. Sherlock still tried to ask about chemical reactions in between kisses, and John giggled and answered every single one wrong until Sherlock gave up. In the end, they cuddled up on the sofa and watched the telly until John yawned and suggested they went to bed, where Sherlock still ran his tongue over John’s ear and neck, tickling him until they both fell asleep.

 

 

\---

 

 

Sherlock had practically trembled with nerves when he’d entered the ballet store, something he so rarely did. He scolded himself a dozen times for it as he stuttered his question to the girl behind the counter.

 

It was just a piece of clothing, he told himself. He knew everyone in the advanced class wore one, he’d stayed behind to sneak a look at the studio after his lesson had ended. Most of them also had soft flowing wrap skirts, and the few masculine figures he’d spotted had been wearing leg warmers and wrap tops for warm-up. The fact that everyone else his age seemed so professional, with their appropriate get-up and all, made him feel inferior somehow.

 

So, he needed a leotard. And that was what he told the girl at the counter of the ballet store Mrs. Hudson seemed to prefer. Of course he wouldn’t take chances with his store choices, it was going to be an investment after all.

 

The girl had winked at him – _winked_ – and showed him to the leotards. At least she let him choose in peace after giving some advice on things that Sherlock mostly knew about already. He hadn’t had to look for long since the dark green, short-sleeved piece seemed just perfect, and he had quickly gone to try it on before buying it, deciding on a new pair of tights as well.

 

And the way Mrs. Hudson nodded at him approvingly on the next lesson made him grin widely on the inside, however hard he tried to stay neutral. He had had no idea dancing – really dancing – could make him so happy, from the actual dancing to everything related to it.

 

He took his place at the barre and got ready, starting his routine. He could feel the novel feeling of the silky fabric, the way it clung to his chest and hips as he lifted his arm to the third position.

 

From the corner of his eye, Sherlock could see John watching him intently and he couldn’t entirely suppress the smirk. He tried to focus on the moves, but he might’ve been a little sloppy towards the end. Mrs. Hudson seemed to notice the glances Sherlock and John exchanged since she only tutted and shook her head instead of giving Sherlock a talk like she usually would when he wasn’t one hundred percent concentrated on his routine.

 

Sherlock nodded sheepishly at her before getting his things and quickly changing his clothes before practically pulling John out of the studio. They walked briskly the few blocks home, giving small, meaningful smiled to each other as they hurried towards their flat.

 

Sherlock basically peeled John from his clothes, pushed him onto the bed and got on top of him, running his hands all over John’s torso and arms. He only had to brush his thumbs over John’s lower stomach to get him to harden, smirking to himself as he fixed his gaze on John’s groin.

 

“John, this is almost too easy. A little bit of ballet and eye-fucking, and you’re already leaking?” he teased, now wrapping his fingers around John.

 

“You know, I’m not fetishizing ballet or anything, believe me…” John panted, his hips twitching under Sherlock’s as the brunet stroked him slowly, smirking from where he was straddling John’s thighs.

 

“But you’re just… God, I shouldn’t get so horny from seeing you happy in your new kit,” John groaned, letting his head fall back to the pillow. “Is happiness even a kink? If it is, I’m super kinky then,” He sighed, letting his back arch as he rode the waves of arousal that coursed through his body.

 

“John Watson, shut up,” Sherlock murmured with a grin, bending forward to kiss him briefly. “You’re way too talkative for someone who’s supposed to be drowning in ecstasy,” he purred quietly, tightening his hold.

 

John cried out, coming rather loudly and pulling Sherlock into a kiss to muffle his moans. When the last wave had passed, John sighed and threw his arm over his eyes. Sherlock just chuckled and wiped his hand and John’s stomach clean before flopping on his back right next to John, giggling.

 

“You know, I don’t mind that you find ballet erotic sometimes, just try to keep yourself in check at the studio.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> P.S. let me know if I fuck up some ballet-related term or something, I'm really not a professional at all.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock gets an unexpected oppoturnity, and John's with him all the way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is so short it's just sad, so I might add something to it later. But I wanted to get something posted for a change, especially because Nutcracker is a Christmas thing and _Christmas is coming_ *panicky noises*

 

 

Sherlock arrived as if in haste, almost slamming the door and then swishing his coat off, throwing his dance bag on the desk.

 

"How did today go?" John lowered his book. Sherlock took a quick look at him and lowered his head. "Fine."

 

"What happened?" John furrowed his brow, "did you get hurt?"

 

"No, I - it's... nothing, nothing happened." John could see Sherlock wasn't hurt, just quite tense and blushing slightly. But nothing major had happened so he decided to drop it. He could get so insecure about making mistakes and it didn’t do any good to probe around, so John decided to let it be, Sherlock would tell him if it was something important.

 

"Okay. Do you wanna get a massage?"

 

Sherlock thought about it for a second, then nodded and plopped down on the sofa next to John. They moved around a bit until Sherlock sat with his back to John, who then started to massage the tense muscles on his shoulders and upper back. He could feel the tension on Sherlock, but soon the dancer was soft and pliant, leaning into John’s hands until John had to move them to the bed.

Sherlock wrapped himself around John and snuffled into his neck before falling asleep, whatever had troubled him now forgotten, and John soon followed him.

 

 

\---

 

 

John woke up next morning as his phone started ringing. Sherlock just let out an unhappy sound and rolled over, so John escaped to the hallway to take the call. When he noticed it was Mrs Hudson, he frowned and answered. “John Watson.”

 

“Hello, dear. It’s Martha Hudson, from Sherlock’s ballet studio.”

 

John hummed, nodding to himself. “Yeah, hello. Has something happened?”

 

“Oh, no, no. Nothing like that, I just wanted to make sure… I mentioned to Sherlock that there are a few free parts for the small Nutcracker project. I told him that he could audition, and we’d find him something.”

 

John felt his eyebrows jump to his hairline. He’d heard Molly mention something at work, that she was excited about a part on some ballet project. That was unusual, since Molly rarely talked much, and even more rarely about herself. Also, many other dancers had been chatting about something similar as they entered the studio after Sherlock’s lesson. “You mean the ballet project everyone’s been mad about? It doesn’t seem very small to me, I thought it was rather a big deal.”

 

Mrs Hudson chuckled, and John could picture her satisfied grin. “Oh, it’s just something we do every year…  Anyways, Sherlock didn’t really say anything about it, just kind of… escaped? That’s a bit odd of him, he didn’t even say bye, which he always does. So I wanted to make sure he’s alright.”

 

“Oh, he’s fine. And I’m sure he was just surprised, you know how he is… I’m sure he’s not going to pass this opportunity.”

 

“I gave him a week to think about it, he’d be a great addition to the cast,” Mrs Hudson said and John chuckled. “I’m sure he will be, thank you.”

 

“Oh, don’t thank me dear, I’d gotten a bigger role for him if they hadn’t all been filled ages ago. But I’ve got to dash, tell him I said hi.”

 

“I will. Bye,” John said, ending the call and returning to the bedroom, where Sherlock was no sitting up and looking at him with a questioning look on his face. "Mrs. Hudson called. She wanted to make sure you were alright,” John explained, crawling back to bed and pulling the covers up.

 

Sherlock sighed and laid on his back. "Of course I'm alright."

 

"Why didn't you tell me about the play? She said most of the parts were gone already. Does it bother you?" John asked, turning his head to look at Sherlock, who shrugged and sighed again.

 

"No, it's... I don't know. It's not like I’d get a lead part or even close anyways yet, but... I'd have to audition," he mumbled. "Probably just to become a dancing candy, John.”

 

John smiled fondly and rolled to his side, watching the dancer. "Sherlock, I'm sure you'd be an amazing dancing candy."

 

Sherlock lifted his gaze and they both burst out in giggles. When the laughter died off, Sherlock sighed again and looked at John. “But, seriously… You think I should do it?” He asked softly. John could see that Sherlock was really interested in trying it out, and he nodded.

 

“Definitely. You’re good enough for a small part, there’s no doubt about that, and it’d be good practice for the bigger roles. Everyone starts somewhere, you know that,” he said, smiling widely at Sherlock.

 

“Thank you,” the dancer nodded, giving him a smile and then pulling him into a kiss, resting his hands on John’s hips. John smiled, sliding a hand on Sherlock’s shoulder and kissing back. After a while, Sherlock deepened the kiss a little and rolled John onto his back. John sighed into the kiss and pulled Sherlock on top of him, their lips still sealed together. Sherlock responded enthusiastically, starting to give John a good groping before suddenly pulling back and staring at John.

 

“I need to practice,” he stated before dashing off, leaving John out of breath and slightly blushed on the bed.

 

“Right, ballet.”

 

 

\---

 

 

“John, you do know that one of your new forwards is going to break his knees, don’t you?” Sherlock noted as they were waiting for the bus after John’s rugby practice.

  
“Hmh? You mean Jack?” John asked, looking at him. “The tall, blonde one?” he clarified after Sherlock scowled at him. “Yeah, him. Either give him a position where he doesn’t need to crouch and make tight turns, or teach him how to do it without damaging his legs. He’ll be an arse about getting advised, though. Used to getting what he wants, but also father troubles,” Sherlock said, sounding bored but clearly showing off.

 

“I thought you came to watch me, not other players,” John teased, poking him on the side with his elbow. “Should I be jealous?”

 

Sherlock scoffed, glancing at him. “John, don’t be ridiculous.” John just giggled and shook his head, lifting his hand as the bus arrived. They got two seats and sat down before Sherlock looked at him.

“John, you do know I only come there for you, right?”

 

John looked at him and grinned fondly. “You silly bee, of course I do,” he chuckled, wrapping an arm around Sherlock’s shoulders. Sherlock just rolled his eyes, blushing so lightly that only John could notice the difference. He smiled to himself and leaned into Sherlock as the bus wobbled on.

 

“So, if you’re feeling confident enough about biology, maybe you could come to my practice tomorrow?” Sherlock asked suddenly, looking straight ahead at the streets that flew by the window. John rested his head on his shoulder and hummed.

 

“Of course I can come, I’ve still got almost a week to study. Will something special happen tomorrow?”

 

Sherlock shook his head, shrugged and then looked at John. “She’ll give me the audition choreography,” he said quickly, sighing. “It’s not _special_ , but...”

 

John nodded and took Sherlock’s hand, smiling at him. “That _is_ a big thing. I’ll be there,” he promised, pressing the stop button. “It’s going to be your first official audition, after all.”

 

They got off and walked to their flat hand in hand, Sherlock’s ears still tinted light pink and John wearing a small smile on his face.

 

At home, Sherlock cuddled John on the sofa and watched him study for a while before starting to stretch. He clearly tried not to bother John too much, avoiding pushing his feet or head on his face. He was always a bit worried about bothering John too much but John didn’t mind, smiling into his textbook.

 

“You really think you don’t know those things already?” Sherlock whined at one point, when he started to get bored. “I’m hungry, I thought you intended to ‘feed me up’ like you said when we first met.”

 

John chuckled and put the book aside, standing up. “Mhm, alright then. Is rice and veggies alright?”

Sherlock nodded, smiling gratefully and getting up too. “I’ll just check the dirt experiment things before you mess them up,” he mumbled, smirking at John and rushing to the kitchen, moving the tray with petri dishes on it from the kitchen counter to the dining table.

 

“So we’re never going to eat on the table again,” John sighed, following Sherlock and starting to pull the ingredients out of the fridge. “With the speed you pile new stuff on it, you’ll never get it cleaned like you promised…”

 

Sherlock scoffed, balancing the tray with a few old books and coffee mug. “You’re the type who eats on the sofa anyways, that habit would never last long,” he said absentmindedly, poking on one petri dish with a pipette.

 

“Git,” John chuckled fondly, starting to peel the vegetables and then frying them on the pan while the rice boiled. “How did I ever survive without you…” he mumbled, seasoning the vegetables with salt and soy sauce.

 

Suddenly Sherlock was hugging him from the behind, resting his chin on John’s head. “You survived just fine, it’s not that…” he mumbled quietly.

 

“I know that,” John said fondly, leaning into Sherlock’s hug a little. “But the real question seems to be how did _you_ survive without me, with your horrid lack of sleeping and eating habits…” he teased.

 

Sherlock chuckled and pulled back, getting plates and forks for them.

 

“That really is a mystery.”

 


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Nutcracker is a go, and Sherlock both loves and dreads it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I meant to post this before Christmas since The Nutcracker is a Christmassy ballet, but I'm not exactly surprised it's already February.

 

 

John tried to be present at every practice, first at the studio with only Sherlock and then with other backgrounds as well. Quite soon, they moved to practice at the site where the shows would be taking place. John thought the stage looked huge, but with all the dancers it wasn’t that big after all.

 

And once Mrs Hudson decided to add the stage props to the rehearsals, the stage suddenly got quite crowded. John agreed to help with moving them around, so it wouldn’t seem as weird that he was hanging there during all the practices (he had gotten a few looks).

 

As he carried the lollipops, plywood furniture and fabrics to the stage before the practice started, he could see Sherlock goggling at him just like he would goggle at Sherlock during the practice, so he just grinned and lifted his current load a bit higher.

 

A few times he had had to be at the café, since Molly was at the rehearsal too and all the other employees magically happened to have something super important to do. Those times John would come home to a cranky, sulky ballet dancer taking up the whole sofa and complaining about the other dancers and the stage and the weather.

 

But John would walk up to him, pick up Sherlock’s feet and sit down. Then he’d start to massage them slowly, all Sherlock’s cranky mood melting away as John warmed up his calves and stretched his toes one by one carefully.

 

Sherlock would huff and turn a few times, but after a while he’d sigh and give John a small smile, wiggling his toes at him.

 

It worked, _they worked_ , and John couldn’t have been happier. Of course, there was schoolwork to do, but they muddled through together, quite focused on the ballet for now. John swore he’d catch up when the three shows were dealt with, but for now he wasn’t even in the mood to revise chemistry or maths or psychology.

 

 

\---

 

 

“I have to admit now that I see the costume, that a living, dancing lollipop isn’t the most dignified of roles,” John giggled, watching Sherlock pull his costume on.

 

It was the first rehearsal with the costumes, and Sherlock was practically fuming at the puffy, pink-white striped candy costume he had been given as he pulled it on.

 

Basically, it was a knee-length sleeveless shirt – mid-thigh for Sherlock –  that prevented him from dropping his arms by his sides properly, since it was puffed up with tulle so that it was round and puffy at the middle. It made him look like, well, kind of like a lollipop, which was exactly the point, Sherlock supposed. It was still humiliating.

 

Swaying to the closest chair and sitting down, he sighed and reached for his slippers. He could feel the rather familiar rush of exasperation when he pulled the slippers to his feet rather clumsily, and the tiny voice in the back of his head woke up. He’d never get better, he’d be stuck here. Always be the fat blob of sugar swaying in the far corner of the stage, never on the limelight.

 

“Hey, love,” John sighed, clearly reading Sherlock’s thoughts from his face and coming to hug him even with the costume on the way.

 

“You’ll get the lead next year, I’m certain of it. You’ll do your part so well this year, Mrs. Hudson won’t have a choice but to make you the lead next time.”

 

Sherlock shrugged and straightened up at the words. “I guess I should be happy that I got a role at all, given how late I auditioned,” he mumbled, tugging on the hem of the candy-shirt before lifting his head, nodding to himself and marching towards the stage.

 

John watched him go, looking only proud and smitten even as the costume jiggled and bounced with every step Sherlock took. He was proud, of course he was very proud of him.

 

Of course, Sherlock got his choreography right, and the practice only lasted for three hours because one of the leads and some background dancers kept messing up. John sat on the second row, watching them idly and wondering how brilliant Sherlock would look on a bigger, nicer stage.

 

Sherlock had made him watch a few versions of the Nutcracker as preparation, so he knew the plot at least roughly. He could imagine Sherlock as the Nutcracker, running around the stage and dancing with Clara (although imagining that part made him feel a tiny bit jealous as he watched the current Clara and Nutcracker twirl and jump through the stage).

 

For a really short second he considered starting dancing too, just so he could make sure Sherlock couldn’t dance duets with anyone else. But the thought of Sherlock trying to pick him up gracefully almost made him giggle aloud. Looking up at the stage again, he could see Sherlock’s knowing gaze across the hall and grinned back.

 

“You weren’t even following the practice,” Sherlock complained, hanging up the costume and stuffing his slippers into his bag. “I was going to ask your opinion on the Nutcracker’s costume, but I can tell you didn’t even pay attention. I thought you wanted to see how the practices go.”

 

“Why would I look at some random bloke’s tights when you’re there as well and much more interesting?”

“It’s not the tights,” Sherlock rolled his eyes, clearly missing the point. “The jacket and hat were very detailed, I know I told you Mrs Hudson spent at least 20 hours sewing them.”

 

“I’ll look at them next time,” John promised, grinning. He got up and walked closer, hugging Sherlock from the behind as he packed his bag. “You’re brilliant, you know that? I don’t know why Mrs Hudson didn’t put more glitter on your costume, you deserve to be noticed up there,” he mumbled, hugging his waist and resting his head against Sherlock’s shoulder.

 

“I’m in the background, I can’t shine too much,” Sherlock mumbled back, zipping up his bag. “I’d distract the leads,” he added, sounding happier and lighter than before the practice. Then he twisted his head to look at John. “Now get off me so I can pull my sweats on, I want to get home sooner than later.”

 

As the show date crawled closer, Sherlock became nervous and snappish. But between practicing and studying, he seemed to need John’s presence no matter how crabby he tried to be. John smiled secretly to himself every time Sherlock cuddled close to him and still insisted he didn’t need it as he nuzzled his face against John’s shoulder.

 

The last few practices practically flew by, everyone knowing their places and routines by then, and John started to enjoy watching the almost finished production. He had agreed to help with the setup on the actual show dates too, meaning he could be present there from the start to the finish, and Sherlock was practically beaming when he wasn’t a nervous mess.

 

 

\---

 

 

It was poor luck that Molly happened to be a dancer too, since they both needed almost every day during the show week off from their afternoon shifts, and the café had only a few employees.

 

“But Greg asked for a day off as well for Tuesday, and you know I’ll be at the show,” Molly twisted her hands as he looked at John pleadingly. It was her day off work, but she sometimes liked to come by for a cup of coffee and a chat.

 

John sighed but shook his head again, tying off his apron. “I’m sure Greg doesn’t need it as much as I do,” he muttered. “You know I’ll be helping with the props, and you know as a dancer how much it would mean to Sherlock as well that I’ll be there. Besides, I let you know about it before Greg did, didn’t i?”

 

Molly just sighed and bit her lip before shaking her head. “Well, alright, alright. But you’ll be the one to tell Greg,” she muttered. “And you’ll owe me one.”

 

John grinned thankfully. “That I will.”

  
“You’ll start with buying me one of those raspberry muffins, and a cappuccino,” she decided, grinning. John just laughed and turned to the coffee machine. “Right.”

 

 

\---

 

 

The day before the show’s premiere, Sherlock seemed to be stressed to the point of exhaustion. He seemed to think he was the worst dancer ever, even though he didn’t really say anything. But John could read the way Sherlock sulked on the corner of the sofa, after John had fed him apple slices and yoghurt for breakfast, and managed to pull the dancer to his lap, stroking his back slowly.

 

To John’s surprise, Sherlock fell asleep after an hour or so, cuddled close to John. He must’ve been sleeping badly, since he slept for a few hours while John stroked his shoulders and arms softly, smiling down at him fondly.

 

When he woke up, John managed to get him to stay on the sofa and watch Doctor Who. Otherwise the dancer might have paced around the whole day, tiring out his feet and both of their nerves, which wasn’t a good idea. At least now part of Sherlock’s focus was on the show, no matter how much he claimed he didn’t care about such things.

 

“John?” Sherlock asked suddenly, eyes on the tv screen as he was cuddled to John’s side.

  
“Hmh?” John hummed, looking at him with a small smile.

 

“I love you,” Sherlock said, now looking at John with a sincere expression. “Like, a lot.”

 

John smiled and kissed his forehead before resting his chin on top his curly head. “I love you a lot too,” he said, stroking his back.

 

“Also, I’m hungry.”

 

John chuckled, pulling back to look at him. “Let’s fix us something to eat, then. You’ll need your strength.”

 

 

\---

 

 

The first show was a success. At least that was John’s opinion. He had stayed on the backstage this time since he needed to move the props almost every time the scene changed, but the dancers looked generally happy, and Mrs Hudson didn’t snap or yell at anyone behind the curtain, so it must’ve gone smoothly.

 

John hoped he could see the show from the audience, maybe on Friday when they’d dance for the last time. With all the costumes and props and Mrs Hudson’s fussing as she sent dancers out to the stage and greeted those returning from there, it all seemed very official and professional.

 

So, he was really itching to see how the final production looked like. Sherlock had shown him enough different versions by the best ballet schools and companies that he knew this was a rather big production, and he considered just buying a ticket for Friday to support the whole hustle.

 

His thoughts were interrupted when the candies burst through the curtain, whispering and tossing ballet slippers off their feet. Sherlock was apparently a bit sulky since his last part had ended and there were still a few scenes to come. But at least he could come to where John was listening to the music and following the proceedings. The dancer just walked up to him and hugged him, sighing deeply and relaxing when John wrapped his arms around him in return.

 

“I’m sure you did great,” John mumble, grinning and patting the puffy costume. Sherlock just huffed and shrugged. “Of course I did well, but a few of the others weren’t on time. I bet they could see it on the audience, and now they’ll –“

 

“Most people probably didn’t realise it was a problem. You know, they probably just think it was all perfect and great, like I do.”

 

“That’s because you don’t know much at all about ballet nor all the nuances associated with it.” John giggled, kissing the top of his head. “Most people don’t, you know that. It was great, and you’ll have two more chances to perfect everything.”

 

That earned John a groan from Sherlock, even though he seemed to be smiling against John’s neck. “God, don’t remind me. I think I might be sick.”

 

“Not on the costume, Sherlock Holmes,” Mrs Hudson chirped from where she’d appeared from the back, fussing as she checked that everything was on it’s proper place. “You did well, there’s no need to throw up.”

 

John just laughed as Sherlock turned beetroot red and straightened his back. “I’ve checked that all the pieces are there,” John told her, patting Sherlock’s shoulder as a hint to head to the dressing rooms. “We’ll just get this costume off so it won’t be at risk,” he added, chuckling.

 

“You do that. Thank you, for the help with the props,” Mrs Hudson smiled, shaking his head. “I’m getting too old to take care of this all by myself.”

 

“I’m sure that’s not the case, Miss,” John grinned, ushering Sherlock towards the dressing rooms. “Bye!”

 

 


End file.
